


Brown Bunny

by Alessgrosskid (thatonegrosskid)



Series: family isnt fair [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Gen, Hermione Granger-centric, Hurt Hermione Granger, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Tags to be added, Whump, actually no child abuse warning for the whole thing, character death like immedietly but they dont get the opprotunity to be main characters, check notes about tht, good dad/uncle rabastian, hermione's name isn't hermione, i realize halfway through i spell rabastan as rabastian and i will not change this, in a fandom full of paternal abuse i stand before you with bellatrix lestrange., slight chirin no suzu au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22504915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonegrosskid/pseuds/Alessgrosskid
Summary: Hermione was special. She was the smartest kid in her class, she had a momma and daddy who loved her, and sometimes, if she really concentrated, she could do magic.But if she was so special, why was she still weak?
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rabastan Lestrange, Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rabastan Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, Hermione Granger & Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy
Series: family isnt fair [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619173
Comments: 21
Kudos: 64





	1. The Bunny

**Author's Note:**

> this is low key kind of a chirin no suzu au and and that may or may not be a spoiler? have fun.
> 
> oh and spoilers if youre worried about the child abuse tag: hermione is like six and gets into a physical fight will bellatrix, a grown adult. obviously, theres a bias and hermione get's hurt.

Hermione Granger could read big books and spell her name and sometimes when she laughed, her books would float. This was a shock to her parents when it had first happened, but by now, as incredible as her abilities were, they were pretty used to it. It took her a long time and a lot of concentration, and a lot of times, she still did it on accident, but she could turn her pages and pick up small things now. Her parents were so proud of her, keeping her powers secret, just for them. 

She was special, her momma and daddy said so and so did her teacher, Miss Emmy. Miss Emmy said she was the smartest kid in her class since she could do more math than anyone else and could tie her own shoes and could read the best. She even said that maybe if she kept learning a lot, she could skip year 2. Tomorrow was show and tell at school and momma said she could bring her favorite stuffie, Maple, with her! Maple was a bunny with big brown eyes and soft fur and if you pressed his tummy she would giggle. She’d had Maple since she was a baby and lover her a lot!

Hermione had just come out of the bath, her momma helping her dry off and put on her night gown while she blew bubbles from her circled fingers with one hand and held on to maple in the other. Her momma was drying off her big puffy hair so she wouldn’t drip all over the carpet when they heard a loud noise from downstairs. Momma picked her up and ran her into the bathroom in her and daddy’s room, turned off the light and locked the door. She told her to be quiet while she was gone and Hermione could hear her rush downstairs where her daddy way. 

She was alone and cold and it was dark she could barely hear what was happening downstairs, but she could feel shouting in her feet, and she was scared. She could feel a knot in her throat, tears welling up in her eyes as she clutched Maple tight enough that she giggled. The shouting was getting louder, voices getting closer. 

She heard a lady coming into the room laughing, but she didn’t sound like momma. Her voice was loud and high and nothing like the pretty warm way her momma spoke to her. She could hear other people with the lady and Hermione couldn’t help letting a little sob escaped her, trying her best to be quiet like momma said, unable to understand what they were saying. 

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could and suddenly, it was quiet. She tried to hold her breath, listening for the lady. When she didn’t hear anything besides her own heavy breathing, she slowly stepped out of the bathtub, thankful it didn’t creak like the tub in the other bathroom, opening her eyes slowly. She shuffled quietly to the bathroom door, watching the light coming in through the crack in the door to see if anything moved. When she didn’t see anything, she swallowed, trying to be brave.

She didn’t hear anything, not her momma or daddy or the lady, so she decided to slowly and carefully open the door, hiding behind it in case anyone was in the room. But nothing came. She peeped out the door, but didn’t see anything but her parent’s room. Hermione sighed, stepping out of the bathroom and calling softly for her momma. When she didn’t hear anything, she stepped further into the room, looking around for any sign of her parents. “Momma? Daddy?” She called, stepping out of the room and into the hallway, frowning when she saw weird marks on the walls and all of their pictures knocked down.

All she heard was a weird knocking noise. She ran down stairs, wincing when they creaked and came face to face with their front door, wide open, the wind knocking it against the wall. She felt that same knot in her throat as she watched three figures walk away from her house, just far enough that she couldn't hear them. Hermione turned to call for her parents again, but it got stuck in her throat. 

Her daddy was laying on the ground, right beside the stairs and she didn’t see him before. She walked up to him, but he didn’t look at her. She tried to shake him, called out to him but he wouldn't answer, his eyes wide, staring out at the room. She ran her little fingers through his bushy beard, his face already feeling cold.  


She knew what was wrong, she had been there when her daddy scooped her fishy DJ out of his tank and when the stray cat they fed stopped coming by. She knew what was happening, but she didn't want to think it, tears falling as she looked around for her momma. She was across the room, still holding on to the damp towel she had been drying Hermione’s hair off with, staring up at the ceiling. 

Hermione walked over to where her momma was laid down across the couch, hair puffing around her head in a big circle, tears rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop herself from sobbing, her chest aching as she held onto her momma’s hand, trying to wake her up. 

She didn’t understand. Her parents were dentists, people loved them. They didn’t do anything to deserve this, they didn’t deserve to be- to be hurt like this. It wasn’t fair. They had done nothing to make anybody want to hurt them. But the lady still did. And her parents were still gone.

She sniffed, standing up. Even though she couldn’t hear it now, she could hear the lady’s voice in her ears. Gripping Maple tight in her hands, she ran outside in the dark, stumbling as she tried to breath through her tears, chasing after the voice that rang in her ears. 

When she found the lady, two men beside her, laughing together like they didn't just- just hurt her momma and daddy, she called out trying to get their attention. “Hey! Hey, lady!” 

The lady turned, her hair big and wild like Hermione’s own, staring at her with a big smile on her face. The two men turned to her as well, looking down at her, like she was gum on their shoes, an annoyance at best. The lady nodded to one, “Looky, dear, I told you they had a brat in their somewhere.” She stepped up the Hermione, reaching down with long nails to pinch at her cheeks, “What is it ickle little muggle? Did you come to die like your parents?” Her laugh was high and harsh, mellowing down to a whisper when Hermione just glared at her, cheeks itching where the lady had grabbed her. 

“You! You did that- you did that to my momma and daddy,” she huffed, holding on to the lady’s hands so she couldn’t let go of her. She used all her strength to keep the lady close to her while she pulled her leg back and kicked her in the stomach. The lady fell back, pushing her back as well. She was on her immediately, sitting on her belly as she hit and punched her the best she could, Maple lying on the ground beside her, “We! Didn’t! Do! Anything! Its not! Fair!”

The two men watched from a few feet away, doing nothing as she cried or whaled on the lady, and nothing as she was pushed off, the lady above her, kicking her to the curb and turning away. “You didn’t do anything? Please, kid, be lucky I don't kill you now. It’s the way of the world, get used to it.” The lady turned away, back to the men, and began to walk off again.

Hermione’s stomach hurt and her head had hit the ground really hard. Still, she picked herself up, running after the lady again. She ran right into her, trying to push her back on to the ground, but one of the men pushed her back, sending her to the ground again. “Don’t ignore me! This is all your fault!”

“What do you want, you little brat?” A man scowled, gripping tight to a stick at his side. 

“I- I want my momma back!” She ran to the lady again, pushing her and kicking at the back of her legs. The lady turned, gripping her own stick, the tip glowing red.

“Back off, kid!” She pulled away from where Hermione gripped her dress, “Little girls shouldn’t run their mouths so much.”

Hermione felt like she couldn’t breath, these people- this lady. She had killed her momma and daddy. She hurt her. She treated her like she was nothing. And suddenly, she felt something build up in her chest and her fingers just like when she picked up her books or turned their pages. She could feel Maple in her hands now, even though she had left her on the ground before, tears falling harder than before. “IT’S NOT FAIR!”

She screamed, louder than she ever had before, the still air picking up and blowing up from behind her, her fair flying in her face. She ran to the lady, screaming and crying, the wind blowing around them, she was so mad. “IT’S NOT FAIR! WE WERE HAPPY! WE WERE GOOD!” It took all her strength to keep going, pulling at the lady’s hair and hitting as hard as she could, even when the men pulled at her and the woman scratched at her with her long nails. “WHY DID THEY HAVE TO DIE! WHAT DID WE DO!”

Finally, she fell back, the lady pushing her hard. The wind stopped, she couldn’t breath, the lady pushing her down to the ground, hand around her throat. “THE WEAK DIE, YOU LITTLE MUDBLOOD. YOU’RE  _ PARENTS  _ WERE WEAK,  _ YOU’RE  _ TOO WEAK, YOUR WHOLE FUCKING  _ SOCIETY  _ IS TOO WEAK! YOU EITHER  _ GROW UP  _ AND GET  _ STRONG _ , OR YOU WAIT FOR SOMEONE  _ STRONGER  _ TO COME AROUND AND  _ PUT YOU IN YOUR PLACE _ .” She snarled, yelling in Hermione’s face, “THIS IS A WORLD WHERE ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE, DEATH IS ALWAYS BEHIND YOU. _ LIVE WITH IT _ .”

“THEN MAKE ME STRONGER!” Hermione shouted, “MAKE ME STRONG LIKE YOU, AND ONE DAY I’LL PUT YOU IN YOUR PLACE!”

Hermione huffed, struggling to catch her breath as the lady looked down at her, searching, angry. “You wanna be strong, brat?” She pushed off the ground, standing. She walked back to stand between the two men, turning her head to Hermione as she walked, “come on then, kid.”

Hermione struggled to stand, but followed, slow and wary. She picked Maple up off the ground, clutching her to her chest, as she stood in front of the lady, having to crane her neck to look up at her. The woman’s face was red from effort and she was breathing just as heavily as Hermione, looking down at her. She grabbed Hermione’s shoulder, nails digging into her nightgown, and they disappeared. 


	2. Breakfast Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wakes up some where new and strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, I feel like i should give a blanket child abuse warning? like, hermione's gonna get into a lot of physical altercations with adults throughout this story.

Hermione woke up wanting her momma. Her heart was beating too fast and her head hurt and for a second, she couldn’t find Maple. She bolted up in bed, looking around herself for her bunny, finding her at the end of a too big bed. She grabbed Maple and slipped out of bed as carefully as she could, not recognizing where she was.

The room was big and dark, the only light coming from an open door to the side, a bathroom. She could tell everything in the room looked dark blue, miles away from the bright yellow of her own room. She stepped into the bathroom, frowning up at the lights. They weren't light bulbs, just glowing balls. Weird. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. Her hair was going every which way, the kind of look she knew her momma hated, and her nightgown was all dirty. It took her a minute, staring at the stains on her clothes and the bruises on her legs to remember what had happened.

Last night. Last night, her parents- she was alone. She went with the lady. Then everything went black. 

Hermione could feel tears welling up in her eyes, remembering her momma and daddy laying in the living room, quiet and cold. She held Maple tight against her chest, trying to keep down her tears. She wanted to be strong. She had to be strong, to beat the lady. Giving herself a minute to breathe, Hermione walked out of the bathroom and nearly jumped out of her skin, seeing someone standing in the room. They were short and skinny, with big round eyes and floppy ears. 

“Hellos miss, Mistress Black would like to sees you in the dining hall,” it said, laying out weird clothes on the big bed. “Please gets dressed and I will shows you to the dining hall.”

“Who are you,” she moved to the bed, looking down at the clothes that had been laid out for her. She’d never worn anything like that before, not even at church. 

“I’s be Speckle, I’ve been assigned to look after you,” she watched Hermione for a moment as she tried to figure out how to put on the clothes before stepping up, “Do yous be needing help, miss?”

Hermione nodded, letting the little thing help her out of her dress and into the other clothes. They were kind of heavy and just almost dragged in the ground. She went back into the bathroom to look at herself, the thing following her, and tried to make sense of what was going on. She'd never worn clothes like this, not even anything this colour, a deep dark blue that, while very pretty, was still foreign and weird in the mirror. 

"What are these?" She asked the little thing, gesturing to her clothes. 

"These be your new robes, miss!" The thing smiled up at her, "Mistress Black picked them herself! They looks very nice, miss!" 

"Ah, thank you?," Hermione looked at her in the mirror, "what are you, Speckle?" 

She looked very confused for a moment before her eyes went even wider than they were already, "Speckle bes a house elf, miss! I bes here to help and take care of the family and nows you!” She smiled up at Hermione, obviously proud of her post. “When you bes ready, I can takes you to the dining hall!”

Something about Speckle’s explanation didn’t sit right with her, but she didn’t say anything, turning back to the mirror to look at her mess of hair. She didn’t really know how to do it on her own, and none of the things momma used were here for her to try her best. Hermione did her best to get her hair to behave, but had to say good enough when she saw Speckle getting nervous. “Alright, I’m ready.” 

Speckle smiled and held on to Hermione’s hand, not to lead her to the dining hall, but to snap her fingers and make both of them disappear. Hermione closed her eyes as soon as she felt a weird tug in her tummy, making her feel sick, and didn’t open them until well after she felt the feeling die down and her feet touch solid ground. She blinked a few times, holding tight to Speckle’s hand, and looked around her. They were in a big, long hallway that had big open windows letting light in. They were standing in front of a set of tall dark doors that Hermione was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to move on her own, the thought sending a little pang through her chest because  _ daddy would have helped her.  _ She let herself sniffle for a second, before squeezing Speckle’s hand and asking her to open the door. 

Inside, the hall was lit up by giant windows, making the dark wood of the long fancy table and chairs shine (some shining right into her eyes.) Speckle led her to the end of the table where the lady was sitting at the head, the two men on either side, sitting her down beside them. The lady didn’t look at her, busy speaking with another house elf, but the men watched her, looking over her robes and hair, but Hermione did her best to ignore them, watching the lady instead. 

She looked different, now that she saw her in the daylight and not sprawled on the ground or above her. She almost looked normal. But she was very pale, and though not as high and wild as last night, her hair was everywhere. Her dress or robes or whatever looked thicker than the one she wore last night, similar to the one’s Speckle had helped her dress in that morning. The thought made her stomach flip, not wanting to have anything in common with the lady, not even their clothes. There were dark circles under the lady’s eyes that only looked darker with the black make up she wore. Hermione almost jumped when the lady’s eyes flicked from the house elf, now gone in a pop, to her, staring her down. 

“Finally,” she spit, sneering down at her as she snapped her fingers, platters of food appearing in front of them, the lady and the men pulling food onto their own plates while Hermione watched them. After a moment, she reached out for one of the platters, grabbed a single slice of ham and put it down on her plate, watching them to see if they would say anything. When none of them said anything, she reached out for another platter, putting 2 eggs on her plate and doing it all over again. Eventually, with her plate as full as she could eat (which, compared to the adults, wasn’t much), she began to eat, only realizing after the first few bites how hungry she really was. 

She ran through her eggs and ham quickly, trying to eat as fast as she could without giving herself a stomachache. There were other foods on the table, one’s she’s sure she’s seen but never eaten and stayed clear of, preferring to grab another piece on ham and 2 sausages. She’s half way through eating them when the man next to her speaks, voice rough and annoyed. 

“Eat something other than meat,” he reached out, putting a scoop of beans on her plate along with mushrooms. vegetables and 2 pieces of toast. When she looked at her plate reluctantly, he pushed a fancy looking cup to her as well. “The strong eat what they’re given. Finish your food.”

Hermione looked between him and the lady before picking up her fork again and eating what she was given, not stopping until she felt well and truly full. She sat at the table quietly then, listening to the three adults talk among each other, completely ignoring her. She looks around her, at the fancy plates and the big cup and all the shiny silverware, and her eyes fall on the fork. She looks between it and the lady, she knows she’s been poked with a fork before and it hurt a little, she’s seen people get hurt with less on TV. So she reaches out and grabs the fork quietly, watching around her to see if any of them saw her. She could get up now, they might not even notice, just walk up to the lady and hit her before she could stop her, but Hermione doesn’t know if the men would help the lady now. 

She doesn't, she's too scared, there’s a man between her and the woman, tall and straight faced. The two men look exactly the same, same long dark hair and sharp eyes that look to the woman as she talks. Hermione thinks she’s married to one, but she can’t figure out which one.

The lady stands up,her plate disappearing as she does, and she starts talking away. She flicks her eyes to Hermione for just a moment, gesturing for her to follow, and says nothing. She stood to follow, the fork resting heavy in her robe pocket where she quickly stashed it. She looked behind herself, the men still eating at the table as they left, and back at the lady. 

As soon as they were through the door, Hermione watched the lady carefully to make sure she wouldn’t turn around, following after her as quietly as she could with her bare feet. When they were halfway down the hall, far enough from the dining room that she could barely see the large door behind them, Hermione came just the smallest bit closer to the lady, pulling the fork out. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, the fork was stuck into the lady’s leg, a scream went through the hall and Hermione was sent to the ground. The lady buckled in front of her, her knee hitting the ground painfully. She reached back and pulled the fork out of her leg with a hiss, glaring back at Hermione. 

“First lesson,” She stood back up, the metal gripped in her hand, “Follow through.”

The lady threw the fork at her, too fast for her to get out of the way, easily cutting through her sleeve and into the arm she held up to protect herself. She was afraid, she was in pain, she wanted to run away but knew the lady would catch her. She tried to take the utensil out of her arm, but it stung worse every time she touched it, bringing tears to her eyes. She yelped when the lady yanked it, tired of her whimpering. 

“You snuck up on me, you had me down for a moment, and them what?” The lady looked down at her, holding onto her arm, “You fell back, watched me get up and did nothing, like a coward.”

“You pushed me back-” She tried, only to be cut off. 

“I was injured, you were not. You could have gotten up faster.” She sneered, snapping her fingers and calling another house elf. It came with bandages, prepared to wrap the lady’s injury and hopefully hers. “It’s one thing to play with an opponent you know is too weak to win, but as soon as I stood back up, I had the upper hand again. How are you going to get back at me if you’re too  _ weak  _ to follow through with your attacks?”

“I-” It hurt, her words and her arm, but she knew it was true. “I’ll do better next time.” She watched the house elf work on the lady’s leg, her feeling sick at the sight of her blood. The lady caught her staring and pushed her away, saying nothing when she wobbled, but didn’t allow herself to fall. 

“I’ll allow Cretin to wrap your arm, but I won’t have it healed. Hopefully the scar will serve as a reminder, if you live long enough for it to heal.” She turned away then, taking out her stick and mending the small hole in her robes that the fork had made, then walked away.”Cretin, when she’s done crying, bring her to the tutoring hall.”


	3. Little Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets a lesson that's not really a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *walks in 2 months late with starbucks and 6 other stories that need to be updated* heyyyyy.
> 
> also uhhhh beginnings of emotional abuse tw?

It didn’t take long for the house elf, Cretin, to bandage her arm, applying a thin layer of some greasy ointment (‘sos it wonts be infected’). As much as she tried, Hermione’s tears didn’t want to stop, soaking into her sleeves as she furiously wiped at her eyes, and told herself to be strong and stop being a baby. She felt awful, her stomach hurt and her arm stung and her head was pounding and she didn't have her momma with her to help her. 

"Miss," Cretin spoke, looking at her with big eyes, "We needs to bes going soon so Mistress Black can begin your tutoring." 

Hermione nodded, standing, but she still couldn't get her tears to stop and it was exhausting. "I'm ready to go." She sniffed, putting her head up. 

Cretin looked between her and down the hall where the lady had disappeared, frowning. "Miss, please come here." She gestured towards herself. When Hermione stepped up, she held onto her, rubbing her long, skinny fingers on her back. Cretin held her for a long time, saying nothing. She was small and strange, but she was warm and Hermione wasn't used to going this long without being held so she didn't want to let go. When Cretin finally let go and stepped back, she looked at her, smiling. "Nows we can bes going."

She held out her hand and Hermione was confused for a moment before realizing she had stopped crying. The hug had distracted her and comforted her until her tears stopped. She smiled, wiped off her face one last time and held the hand Cretin offered, preparing herself for that same strange tug as the last time. 

They appeared in front of another big, dark door, the woozyness going over Hermione only making her feel worse, already tired and a bit grumpy from crying before. Cretin opened it for her to make her way inside before disappearing, leaving Hermione alone. The room was huge, a bookcase, a couch, chairs and tables on one side and a large open area on the other. The lady was sat at one of the tables, staring off to the side with her arms crossed. Hermione walked forward, doing her best to stay quiet despite her small fumbles. 

Still, when she was just a few feet away from her, The lady’s eyes snapped over to her, stopping her in her tracks. She took out her stick and said ‘tempus’, making a light come from the tip and the time appear in the air. The lady frowned, looking down at her. “Did it really take you 20 minutes to stop crying?”

When Hermione said nothing, keeping her mouth firmly shut so she didn’t say anything to get herself in trouble, the lady sneered, “You may be a child, but I didn’t think you would be  _ this  _ weak.” Hermione put her eyes to the ground, trying to ignore how her face flushed in anger and embarrassment. “I thought that maybe, one day, you could be of use, but I suppose your bravado last night was just a fluke.”

The lady stood, looming over her, “Maybe bringing you here was a mistake,” She hissed, “Maybe I should have killed you there in the street like you deserved.”

Hermione felt tears sting her eyes and something hot and angry rise in her chest as she tried to block out the lady’s words. She couldn’t help being  _ weak,  _ she was a child. Her momma told her everybody cried, that it was normal and meant you were human. She was trying, she really was, but she didn’t even know what she was supposed to be doing here. Her head hurt and she couldn’t help sniffling as she tried to reign in her thoughts. 

The lady must have heard her though, and scoffed, pushing her away from her. “Are you crying again? What are you, an infant? Are you an ickle little baby who never learned to control herself?” 

She shook her head, her breathing coming harsher now as she tried not to let her tears fall, feeling like there was static in her mind. She huffed out,“‘m not a baby,” wincing at how rough she sounded.

“Really? So I guess it’s your parents fault? Just didn’t teach you right,” Hermione felt the hot, angry feeling inside her grow and weigh inside her like a bunch of rocks, “Birthing a witch was the only good thing they’d ever done and they couldn’t even do that right. It was probably for the best that I killed them when I did, stop them from spreading their incompi-”

“SHUT UP!” Hermione croaked out, trying not to sob, balling up her fists. She felt like she was going to explode, snapping her head up to look at the lady, “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP, DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MOMMA AND DADDY!”

She couldn’t breath, crying and screaming and stomping on the ground, glaring at the lady without seeing her, tears clouding her vision. She could tell things were moving around her, the lady backing up, but she couldn’t put it together, the blurry image of the lady getting knocked over by a chair the last thing she saw before things went black. 

  
  


When Hermione woke up, she was exhausted, her head was pounding and her mouth felt dry. She felt awful, picking herself off whatever she had been laying on, the couch in the tutoring hall apparently. She looked around herself, the light coming in from the windows enough to make her head throb, until she found the lady, sitting beside her feet with a book in her hands, paying her no attention. Hermione sits herself up, watching her with still blurry, tired eyes, and sits beside her quietly. 

“You missed lunch,” The lady said after a long period of silence, still reading, “If you keep getting angry and using up all your magic, you’re going to kill yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione frowned, she never got tired using her powers before, just this morning and last night when she got angry. “I move stuff ‘round all the time and this nev’r happens.”

The lady looked down at her, snapping her book closed, “You’re a child, so your magical core hasn’t fully formed yet. Small bits of accidental magic and moving toys is one thing, but throwing tantrums and destroying a room is another.” She placed her book down, facing Hermione with a frown, “You would already be exhausted if you were just crying and throwing things, but you also used up your magic all at once, which is why you passed out.”

Hermione understood, she was sure, but she was still confused. Before meeting the lady and the men, she’d never met anyone else with powers, everything she knew, she learned by working on it with her parents. When she wanted to learn something, she asked her parents or found a book, but it didn’t work that way for her powers, for magic. If she wanted to learn more, she needed to ask someone who already knew about it. “What’s a magic’l core?”

“That’s a more complicated question than you’d think,” she sighed, “it’s the center of your magic, what separates witches and wizards from muggles. When you use magic, you pull it from your core and when you use too much all at one, when you pull too hard, you exhaust yourself. Better and older witches than you have seriously hurt themselves or died due to magical exhaustion.”

Hermione nodded, thinking that over. It was scary, the thought that she could have been really hurt and had no idea, that she didn’t know anything about her magic. They were both silent, in their own worlds, for a long while before the lady stood, waving for her to follow as she walked to the door. Hermione followed, doing her best to keep up with her long strides. As they walked through the halls, her eyes flickered around and she could swear she saw little figures disappearing around corners or doors or just disappearing as soon as she looked over. As they walked, moving deeper into the huge house, she realized the big open windows were being replaced by lanterns on the walls and the portraits along the walls seemed to watch her.

They came to a swinging door with lights around it, the lady leading her in without stopping. When she walked in, the first thing she felt was warmth, the whole room was tinted orange from the candles and oven flame and furnace burning. There were houselves all around the room, some busying and working together by the stoves and some sitting in small groups on the ground, talking and giggling together. They looked up at the two of them as they walked in, some nodding their heads and greeting them and some averting their eyes and shuffling away. 

The lady lifted her by her armpits, sitting her on top of a counter and turning around to hiss something at a nearby houself. She leaned against the counter with her arms folded, looking impatient and testing Hermione’s already stretched six year old patience and attention span. She was sort of tired of long, tense silences. She waited what felt like an hour before she opened her mouth to speak, the lady cutting her off.

“You’re not as useless as you look,” She didn’t look at her, eyes trailing after the elves milling about, “With the right training, you could be good. Put that power to use.”

“What are you gonna do?” Hermione felt her insides flip but didn't know why.

"I'm going to train you, obviously." The lady paused, letting her words sink in as she was handed a plate by a nearby house elf. She passed it off to Hermione, the command to eat silent.

Hermione ate quietly, finishing her food far faster than she thought she would because she was far hungrier than she thought she was, almost embarrassed when she placed her plate down beside her. She waited a moment to see if the lady would say anything, the only sound around them coming from the working elves trying to avoid them at all costs. When nothing was said, she swallowed and asked, “How do you train me?”

“Well, we can’t do anything right now, you’ve already exhausted yourself for the foreseeable future,” She scoffed, side eying Hermione, “We’ll start developing your magical core, seeing how far you can really push yourself. I’ll be taking care of your training and have Rabastian start your nonmagical tutoring, probably start you on arithmetics, french and of course, you’ll need to be tutored on pureblood etiquette in preparation for the blood adoption and-”

Hermione had many questions building up as she listened to the lady explain, she didn’t know what arithmetics meant or who Rabastan was but one thing stopped her in her tracks, “Blood adoption?” 

She knew adoption was when a baby was brought into a new family, usually because the baby was abandoned or an orphan. She knew her- that being an orphan meant your momma and daddy were gone. And that kids who didn’t get adopted lived in orphanages of foster homes or lived on the streets and she didn’t want to be all alone. Still, she didn’t want the lady to be her new momma. 

“Of course. Blood adoption will get you as close to being a proper pureblood as you’re ever going to get,” The lady looked at her, not caring about her internal struggle, “And I can’t have the entire wizarding world wondering where I got a child and what I’m doing with you. An adoption means they can’t take you away from me.”

She understood, technically, that the lady was right and she didn’t have any way to argue against her but- she couldn’t help a little hiccup from leaving her, her eyes filling with tears.

“What’s wrong with you now?” The lady sneered.

She couldn’t answer for a long while, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes before they could fall. She didn’t want to look weak and silly, crying over something so simple, something she couldn’t help. “I- I’m fine,” She finally choked out, sniffling harshly so she didn’t get snot on her robes.

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t be sniveling like a toddler,” the lady pulled her by the chin so she would look at her, “Spit it out, mudblood.”

She didn’t know what mudblood meant, but the lady said it so sharply Hermione couldn’t help feeling hurt. She sniffed and spoke through her harsh breaths, “I- I don't want- I don’t want you to be my new momma,” She paused to try and breath, “I don’t want a new momma at all!”

The lady looked at her for a long moment, her eyes following hers, cold and hard. Then, her face scrunched up in a weird way and she let go on her, “We rarely get to choose our family, Brat.”


	4. Playing Catch Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is learning, slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams* quarantine is killing me writing is hard i wanna go home (note: im stuck at home). this is unbetad as usual, pls tell me if you find any mistakes!
> 
> i shouldn't have to say this but you shouldn't raise kids like this! and also this is lowkey unrealistic but i dont think realism holds too much weight atm so i dont care.
> 
> also: There's french in this chapter. I google translated it. if you speak french, I'm so fuckign sorry.

Arithmetics meant math. Hermione was good at math. One of the men, Rabastian she remembered, had started tutoring her in the library the day after the lady had taken her down to the kitchens, and had started by quizzing her on all the maths she knew (Which was a lot! She could count to one hundred by ones, twos, fives and tens and could add and subtract two digit numbers!) He said she was ‘impressive for a child’ but that the ‘muggle schools are nothing compared to them’. She didn’t know what a muggle was and hadn't asked, but it sounded like she was doing fine.

Rabastian was sort of rough and quiet and smelled like smoke but he was never really  _ mean _ , so Hermione liked him more than his brother. Rodolphus would come in to check on her lessons or would quiz her over the table at meals and he always looked kind of sour, he sort of scared her. Once, he had come into the library during her french lesson for the day and called her accent ‘almost as bad as an americans’ which sort of hurt. Hermione didn’t think Rodolphus liked her very much.

She didn’t care, at least she told herself she didn’t, he wasn’t her family. Even when it came time to adopt her (something she knew was coming quickly), they wouldn’t be her real family. She’d beat him one day, just like she would beat the lady. She would beat all of them, show them that she was strong. 

“Child, answer me.” Rabastian’s voice snapped her into focus, sitting beside him in the library. She looked down at the book in his hands, trying to remember what they were talking about. French.

“Um, tu es mon papa, c'est ma m-maman.” She stuttered, scrunching up her nose. She didn’t stutter, or at least she shouldn't. Rodolphus said that ‘the strong spoke with conviction’ even if you didn’t like what you had to say.

Rabastian hmm’d, not mentioning it, “Et tu?” He slowly closed his book, tapping a finger on the cover.

“Je suis juste un enfant.” Hermione answered innocently, not moving when she heard the library door open. It was impolite to turn your attention from lessons and conversations. Or at least, it was rude to let people  _ know  _ your attention was wavering.

“Êtes-vous un garçon? ou une fille?” he questioned, keeping eye contact with her to keep her from turning to see whoever had entered. His eyes were so dark, they looked flat in the low light of the library.

“Je suis une fille, évidemment.” she answered, listening to the footsteps coming towards them. They were too heavy to be the lady. She wanted to frown, but that would be rude.

“Are you  _ just  _ a little girl?” Rodolphus’ voice came from behind them, clipped and harsh. 

She turned to look at him, not showing just how badly she didn’t want to talk to him, “Je suis l'héritière de la noble maison de Lestrange.” She said it exactly as she was taught to, even and proud. 

He didn’t look impressed, but he never did. “Et a l'héritière de la noble maison de Lestrange sa lecture terminée?”

“Yes sir,” She wanted to look away from him, she didn’t want to talk to him.

He turned away from her, to talk to his brother, “If she’s done in here, Bella wants her in the training room.” 

Rabastian nodded, and stood, waving his wand to put their books back onto the shelves. He gestured for Hermione to stand, “We’re done with french for the day, be ready for your etiquette lessons when you return and tomorrow, we’ll work on magical theory.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder, smiling, “Join me for a smoke when you get the chance.”

Rodolphus nodded and led her out into the hall. She knew how to get to the training room, sort of, but the lady always made sure someone was there to make sure she got there on time. She liked it best when a house elf could take her, they were very nice and sometimes gave her good advice. Rodolphus usually didn’t talk to her unless it was to test what she had learned that day. Rodolphus was never nice. The best advice he ever gave her was to leave him alone.

He walked her right up to the door of the training room and pushed her forward, mumbling something before turning to leave. Hermione waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore to push it open, searching around the room with her eyes. She hesitated, just a little. She couldn’t see the lady anywhere and that usually didn’t lead anywhere good. 

She stepped inside, stiff and cautious, trying not to shrink in on herself. She was just getting into the room when she felt like something was gripping her whole body, stinging and making it hard to breath. Hermione knew it was a body binding curse, that she should have expected it somehow. She tried to move, to look around but all she could manage was a weak squirm, the frustration of it all threatening to bring tears to her eyes. 

“Pathetic, really.” The lady’s voice came from out of her eye line, circling her, “You knew something was wrong, but you walked right into my trap. You didn’t even think to shield yourself.”

She couldn’t respond or defend herself, even if she tried. She wanted to, to try and excuse herself and say it wasn’t her fault, but she knew it would be wrong. This wasn’t the first time the lady had gotten her in a body bind and she should have expected something to happen when she couldn’t find her.

“You  _ know  _ how you would have been punished if you had grown up in my home,” The lady leaned over her, wand pointed at her face, “You’re lucky I’ve decided to be kinder than that.” The lady lifted the spell and gave her half a second to catch her breath before picking her up by the back of her robes and throwing her into the middle of the room. 

Hermione scrambled to her feet as soon as she could, catching a stinging hex in the back, already knowing what was coming. Around her, bright coloured lights hit the floor around her, just barely missing. She knew the lady was holding back some to make up for her age, she couldn’t imagine doing this when the lady was using all her strength. Either way, she ducked and dodged to the best of her ability trying to make it to the sides of the room where the bookcases, tables and chairs had been pushed against the walls and each other. There, she could find cover, try to hide until she could find her training wand and come up with a plan. 

She ducked behind the nearest chair, searching it with fumbling hands before moving on to the bookcase beside it, always moving, doing her best not to let the lady get her. She’s ashamed, she can’t admit it out loud, but her training exercises terrified her. Hermione’s attention was pulled everywhere, trying to find her wand, keeping moving against the wall, watching the spells hitting around her, trying to remember what they were, trying not to get herself hurt. To prove she could do it.

She’s just barely registered the hex that hit the chair behind her, stepping around the bits of broken wood that came away with it, when her vision is filled with bright red, passing right in front of her eyes. She feels tears fill her eyes, her knees go weak at the sight. The lady has never hit her with it, but she’s threatened it enough, demonstrated its effects on a beetle first, then a house elf Hermione had never seen before or since. She knew what a crucio was, what it did. And the very sight was enough to freeze her in her place. But she knew better than that, even if she was out of the lady’s sight, she wasn’t safe. 

She ducked under and around the furniture more quickly, throwing herself under the couch. She searched desperately around herself, almost cheering when her hands found the familiar weight of her training wand. Not as powerful or personal as a real one, she wouldn’t get that for a long time, but a way for her to focus her energy, stop exhausting herself so quickly. 

She gripped it with both hands, watching the ground from under the couch, trying to even her breathing, keep herself calm (“Young heirs and heiresses must present themselves with grace and calm” Rabastian’s voice reminded her, “To show fear is to show weakness,” The lady’s voice added, “To show weakness is to lose”). She listened to the lady’s steps, her high giggles, the backlash from her spells hitting the walls and furniture, the ragged huff of her own breath. She waited until she could see The lady’s feet coming towards the couch and gripped her training wand, squeezing her eyes tight. She thought about how much danger she was in, the pain in her back, the terror of seeing that red light, how she needed to be  _ gone _ , and she felt that cold tug in her chest, like she was collapsing in on herself.

She opened her eyes, trying to ignore how they blurred and her vision doubled, and saw she was across the room, behind a table pressed up against the wall. She felt so tired, she’d only done that a few times on purpose (once when she was very little and ran into the road, once during a training session when the lady sent a hex at her face and she freaked out), and every time it took a lot out of her. She gave herself a moment to breath before getting up to keep moving, slipping her shoes off as she went. 

She padded along the wall silently, gripping her wand tight as she watched through her shield to stay behind the lady at all times, running or scurrying to make sure she was out of her sight. She can’t do proper spells yet, wasn’t strong enough, but she could make do. 

What was it called? A spell to take someone's wand away... expelly-something, she knows she should know it, but she's sort of tired. But she knows what it does, so she can try any way. She moves a little more slowly, focusing on the lady’s wand hand. If she does it too slowly, the lady will just grip it tighter and she’ll get caught, so she breathes deep and aims her wand at her hand jerking it to the side as fast as she can. 

Her wand jerks just enough to leave her hand, the lady immediately grabbing for it in the air. She tries to woosh it away, to toss it into the broken wood the lady had left in her wake. Hermione knew that the lady could get it back in an instant, call it to her with a spell she hadn’t taught her yet, but she would entertain her for now. She waits for the lady to find her wand and concentrates on the chair pieces around her, bringing them up and rushing them towards the lady with all her strength. 

Some hit, others, she sent back with ease, twisting around to trace the wall with her eyes. Hermione knew the moment she found her, their eyes meeting from across the room, that things were about to get much harder. 

  
  


“Child,” Rabastian called to her from across the table when she almost dropped her cup, “is it polite to nod off during your lessons?”

She shook her head, placing it back onto its place on the table, almost too exhausted to speak. She was in pain and she could barely keep her eyes open, but the lady had told her she couldn’t get her cuts and scrapes healed. “Sorry sir.”

“Etiquette lessons aren’t fun,” He held her gaze, “Especially when you're young enough to still need nap times.” He gestured for her to eat her food, the small, light snacks doing nothing to wake her up. 

“If etiquette is so important, why are you and I the only people who seem to use it?” She asked carefully, sipping at her far too bitter tea. 

“Well,” Rabastian answered, visibly trying not to smile, “Bellatrix and Rodolphus grew up in this world, they were raised from birth to know the things we’re trying to teach you all at once. One day, when you know all the rules and tricks, you’ll know how to break them too.”

Hermione nodded, thinking about it. “Did you train like this? When you were growing up?” If anyone had tips for her, he would be the most likely to tell her.

He winced for a moment, then smoothed his face. “No, not like this.” He didn’t say anything more on the subject and she guessed it was for a reason.

She nodded and they continued on with her lesson.


	5. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets the in-laws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new years! heres a new chapter that feels a lot shorter bc its a lot of dialouge and whoops i dropped some plot a little early but its fine
> 
> spoilers: dont raise kids like this

"State your destination clearly." 

"Gim'auld place," Hermione looked up at Rabastian, watching to see if she got it right. 

" _ Grim _ mauld Place," he corrected, placing the container of floo powder in her hand, "number twelve."

She grabbed a handful of the dust, careful not to breath it in, and threw it into the fireplace, squinting as the flame puffed bright green. "Grimmauld Place," she said clearly, stepping into the flames. 

To her credit, she didn't stumble when she came out the other side, not like the first time she tried. She did pause for just a second too long to pull herself together, still sore from her training with The lady, Rabastian knocking into her when he came through. 

“Be more careful,” He reminded her, before walking away, leading her into the manor. 

Hermione followed, even if she didn’t want to. She’d been to G _ rim _ mauld place a couple of times before in the past few weeks, mostly to get her accustomed to other manors and to make sure the wards recognized her. She wasn’t super sure what that meant, but it was important. Either way, the manor gave her a bad feeling. At least the lady’s house had some light, the large windows brightening up the scary halls, but Grimmauld place was all shut up, the only windows closed and fogged over with dust and grime. The only lights for them to follow were the weak hall lights, leading them into the main rooms. 

“Come, child,” Rabastian waves her over to a portrait on the wall, the man inside watching them, “Introduce yourself.”

She came to the portrait, bowed politely and stood straight, “Hello, Sir. My name is Hermione Granger, future heiress of the noble house of Lestrange.”

“Granger?” The portrait looked from her to Rabastian, face twisting in a way she was sure she wasn't meant to see.

“We haven’t gone through with the adoption yet.” He explained.

“Well,” The portrait sniffed, looking back down at her, “I am Cetus Black. It is... nice to meet you.”

She nodded to him and Rabastian shuffled them off to the next portrait to do it all over again. Which she does. Dozens of times. They walk through the halls for what seems like hours, introducing her to long dead ghosts of paintings that never seem to like her. She meets two Sirius’, 2 Pollux’s, 3 Cetus’ (two men and a woman), one Corvus, one Crux, one Andromeda, and SO many Orions. She was starting to feel like there was a theme to these.

Finally, Rabastian stopped her in front of the final painting, a huge one in the front hall that was covered up by a tarp. With a heavy sigh, he removed the tarp, revealing a portrait of a severe looking woman with a permanent sneer on her face, looking down at her like she was something stuck on her shoes. 

“ _ What  _ do you  _ want? _ ” She snapped at them. 

“Nice to see you too Walburga.” Rabastian muttered inclining his head in a greeting, “We’re here to introduce you to your soon to be grand niece.”

“Grand niece? That little Pickaninny?” The woman, Walburga, grimaced, “Did Bellatrix finally leave you and your frigid brother and have another man’s child?”

“ _ Walburga! _ ” He all but covered Hermione’s ears, and she didn’t know what the word picka-niny meant, but it seemed bad, “Do  _ not _ talk about our child like that.”

“What do you mean  _ your  _ child, you never married,” The portrait said very loudly, ”That thing would be your brother’s child. You’re just living with them like some kind of kept man or  _ concubine. _ ”

Hermione was, of course, very confused, but she knew Walburga was being (as her daddy would say) a complete arsehole.

“ _ We  _ are blood adopting her.” 

“Ugh. Well at least the little  _ thing  _ will have your blood.” Walburga rolled her eyes, “Maybe some proper blood will straighten out that rat's nest on it’s head.”

“Could you  _ please  _ at least  _ pretend  _ you give a damn about anyone but yourself? For three minutes?” Rabastian hissed in a way that was probably meant so that Hermione couldn’t hear him. “Child, introduce yourself and then we can go.”

She stepped up, bowed politely and introduced herself the way she had dozens of times before that day, staying tucked as close into Rabastian’s side as she could. 

“Hmph. Rabastian, get that little cur out of my hall.” She turned away in her portrait, nose so far in the air Hermione thought she would fall over if she could.

She looked up to Rabastian, hoping they would be able to go, and shrunk in on herself seeing the open anger on his face. She held her hands behind her back, rubbing the hem of her sleeve between her fingers nervously. 

“Child, do you remember what room the floo is in?” Rabastian asked, not looking down at her. “Go wait for me.”

She nodded and bowed politely, hurrying away as quickly as she could without seeming rude. She made her way to the room with the fireplace but decided to linger by the door to try and hear what Rabastian was going to say. 

She couldn’t hear them very well, straining her ears while trying to stay hidden behind the door, but what she could pick up was confusing and interesting.

“That girl is going to be our daughter, would it kill you to fucking act like she’s family?” Rabastian hissed, sharp as a curse (and Hermione realized she’d never heard him cuss before). 

“ _ No,  _ the thing will be Rodolphus and Bellatrix’s daughter. You’re just a freeloader.” The portrait was much louder. “And if that  _ animal  _ is really what they’re resorting to, I’m not sure even black blood will save us.”

“This isn’t a last resort and it’s NOT Bella’s fault, and we both know that.” his voice was louder now, “The fact that Narcissa could carry Draco as long as she could was a fucking miracle.”

“Don’t you blame ME for my neices’s faults!” Walburga snapped, “I did EVERYTHING for those girls, I trained them up to be good and proper ladies who fought for what’s right and knew their place! Their own MOTHER didn't do that much! Their own shortcomings have nothing to do with me.”

“Oh FUCK off, Walburga, you were throwing crucios at your children before they were Hogwarts age.”

“And it taught them right!”

“It taught them PAIN.”

They were both silent for a long moment. Hermione stepped away from the door, not wanting to hear them anymore, not until she could think through what he had heard. She went to stand by the floo, fiddling with the hem of her sleeves while she waited for something, anything, to happen. 

After a while, she heard muffled words from the other side of the door and straightened herself, placing her hands behind her back and pretending she had been standing still as a statue the whole time. When Rabastian walked in, face still screwed up in anger, he looked at her, still and stiff beside the fireplace, and sighed. “Come on, child,” he waved her to stand beside him, ”Let’s get back home.”

“Sir, can I ask a question?” She looked up at him, and realized for just a second that she was scared to ask when she hadn’t been scared around Rabastian in weeks. He nods down at her, and she’s sort of forced to get herself together and speak, “Are you... are you and the lady not married?”

She almost feels bad for asking when he scrunches up his face, looking away from her in a way that was so similar to her teachers when she asked too many questions about ‘sensitive’ things. 

“Bellatrix and I, well-” He shifted just a little bit while he thought, “we’re not married  _ legally.  _ She and Rodolphus were engaged so they were the ones to be married, but she loves us both.”

“Why didn’t she marry you?” Hermione frowned, “You seem a lot nicer.”

That got a smile out of him. “We were a lot different as kids, you know.”

  
  


Hermione came out of the bath, but didn’t feel any cleaner. Speckle had brought her to bed early because they had a ‘big days tomorrow’ and she wasn’t excited at all. 

She didn’t want the lady to be her new momma, she hated her more than anything, even more than vegemite and loud dogs and the fact that she had to take gross potions when she got sick now. The only thing that kept her from throwing a fit about it was the fear of being cursed again and knowing that one day she’d get her back. 

She shuffled into her sleep robes (they just looked like a frilly nightgown but Speckle called them sleep robes) and her socks before going into her bedroom proper, Speckle and Cretin already waiting by her bed to help her up. It was a very tall bed. 

“Does Miss wish for Speckle to puts her hair up?” 

“Or perhaps, a story befores bed?”

She thinks Rabastian asked the house elves to be extra nice to her today and she doesn’t know how to feel about that. So she lets Speckle braid and moisturize her hair and when she laid down, Cretin read her a story about a man who rips out his own heart and then the heart of the girl he wants to marry and it's all very grim for a bedtime story. 

When the elves are finished, they say good night, hand her her bunny and and pop away, leaving Hermione alone in her big bed in her big dark room with only Maple for company. 

She pull her covers up over her head so she can talk with Maple in private, curling up around her, “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

_ Why not, ‘Mione? _

“Because I’m getting adopted tomorrow,” She frowns, “I feel like it’s been forever since momma and daddy died but it still feels like yesterday. I don’t want them to feel like I’m abandining them.”

_ But you don’t really have a choice do you? _

“No... if I want to stay here and get stronger, I have to deal with it.”

_ Why do you need to get stronger? Why don’t you just go home so we can have fun again? _

“I can’t just-” She stopped to think. She missed her back yard and her toys and her TV, she couldn’t lie. But still, some things were more important. “I can’t quit, what would I go home to? Momma and daddy are gone now. And if I leave now, she’ll always be stronger than me and I won't be able to put her in her place.”

_ But what if you never get strong enough? _

Hermione didn’t have an answer for that one. So she tried to close her eyes and sleep. 

She tries, she does, turning back and forth in bed, keeping her eyes shut light and trying to imagine fun pretty things like she’s forcing herself to dream. It doesn’t seem to be working.

“-mione.”

She hugs Maple tighter, trying to get her mind to stop racing. 

“Hermione.”

She frowns, looking down at her bunny. She’s never this loud usually.

“Hermione.”

She bolts up in bed, searching for who or whatever was calling her name. Her blurry eyes finally land on the door to her room, lit by the light of her half open bathroom door, where the lady was standing in her own Black sleep robes. 

“That’s your name right? Hermione?” She asked, looking down at her.

She nodded, watching the lady warily, leaning back against the headboard when she came toward her. “Yes mam, it is.”

The lady comes to sit beside her on the edge of the bed, watching her with dark, sharp eyes. “After tomorrow, you won’t be Hermione anymore.” She raises an eyebrow, “You get that, right?”

Hermione nods, because she does, and asks, “Why are you telling me now? And you’ve never called me by my name before.”

She shrugged, “Call it a gift, call it a warning. Make sure you know what you’re getting into before you're stuck with me.” 

Hermione frowns, holding Maple to her chest, “I’m always gonna be Hermione. No matter what.”

They stare at each other for a long time. She can’t tell how the lady feels, her face is covered in shadows that make it hard to read. Still, Hermione stares back. 

Finally, the lady stands, turning away from her to sink back into the shadow of the door frame. 

“Get to sleep, I won’t have you nodding off at Gringotts.”


End file.
